


You Are My Sunshine

by maxineemalanaphy



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Depression, Difficult Decisions, Fluff and Smut, Heartbreak, Love Confessions, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Quentin Coldwater/Alice Quinn, Post-Mosaic Timeline (The Magicians: A Life in the Day), Protective Eliot Waugh, Protective Margo Hanson, Quentin Coldwater Lives, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28657713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxineemalanaphy/pseuds/maxineemalanaphy
Summary: Quentin is a hero. Quentin is Eliot's hero as much as Eliot is Quentin's hero."It amazed him that he had been able to call life what was not them.Language plays these tricks: sometimes it finds alternative words, doped up words, megalomaniac words. To call life what was not them was a lying hyperbole, a way that words have of hiding what they should show."
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> A story that came from my heart where Quentin goes to the Seam, but he doesn't die...Something different happens.

To conquer anything you have to have the ability to throw everything away. To look crappy fear in the eye. Slap it in the face for even daring to try and shatter your dreams.

No fear stops a dream. Only the pusillanimous give up.

What makes the difference is having the ability, when necessary, to throw it all away. To throw everything overboard. And understand that everything was almost nothing - that it neutered you, inhibited you, held you back, that it was more or less when you wanted the whole package. A trifle compared to what you can conquer. And you can. You can always conquer. You always have everything to gain - even when those who only know how to say "but" and ask "why" tell you that you have everything to lose.

Some people kill what hurts; but very few kill what keeps them from winning. And in all aspects of life, at every turn. Do you have a reasonably good job? Send it to hell. Are you in a reasonably good relationship? Screw it up. Those who find themselves in the reasonably good are deep in reasonably deep shit. And there's still reasonably time to go in search of something irrationally good, dementedly good, stupidly good. As reasonably dangerous as that may be.

What doesn't provide you with tension deserves only your compassion.

The hero is that guy who, while having it all, also has the attributes necessary to throw it all away if necessary. To be able to conquer himself. In order to go after what he wants to conquer. The one who doesn't have the audacity to throw everything away already lost long ago. Peace be upon his soul.

To be happy is not to have more happiness; to be happy is to have better happiness.

Look around you. Realize that there are two types of people: the felicitated and the felicitating. The felicitated spend their lives congratulating. Saying "congratulations, you made it" or "who knew you'd make it that far?". And the felicitating spend their lives creating happiness. They spend their lives hearing "but it might not even work out" only to hear "congratulations, you made it"; they spend their lives hearing "you're dreaming too much" only to hear "who knew you'd make it that far?". The felicitated congratulate and the felicitating are truly happy. And it's up to you to decide which side you're on. One is more comfortable, clearly. It's so easy to say that something might not work out, that it's probably best to stay quiet, that one more step could ruin everything. And it's so hard to take a step forward, it's so hard to take courage in stride and launch. To launch unreasonably. It's so hard to be prepared to lose everything as well as it is absolutely delicious to savor it. There are two types of people in the world: those who pat themselves on the back (to congratulate those who have done what they dreamed of doing) and those who get their asses kicked (because they dared, all of a sudden, to throw away everything they had built up to that moment).

Quentin Coldwater was a part of the felicitating. No one had ever questioned that. Quentin had let life kick him only to get up and hit it back with even more force. 

He had to fight against depression and that horrible feeling of not belonging, anywhere, even when he was alone for a good part of his life. Quentin had wanted to go back to when his head didn't wander among questions, among wrong answers, among loneliness, but above all to when his mind didn't kill him so much that he hurt himself physically. The boy wanted to go back to those times when he didn't even know what it meant to hate himself, to those times in which his best friend Julia introduced him to the Fillory and Further series and he started to love magic. Quentin felt almost jealous of his younger self, who needed so little to be happy or even peaceful. A sleight-of-hand magic and card tricks, Julia and her promise to explore Fillory together like Jane and Martin Chatwin. But eventually they grew up. Julia outgrew her love for Fillory, Quentin did not. She reiterated to him that they were no longer children, that he needed to stop obsessing over something that didn't exist. But how could Quentin stop loving the one thing that could keep him from feeling lonely and out of place? Julia, as well as his parents and everyone around him, would never be able to understand that that world was the only way out of the emptiness he felt.

At his worst, Quentin didn’t recognize himself anymore. Imagine a poor 17 years old kid in a mental health clinic, with dark circles under the eyes for insomnia, red eyes for crying, a smashed face, marked wrists and his parents at the end of his bed. He had attempted suicide and he wondered how had he become that ghost. It was frightening how all that sadness, the depression, had eaten him alive. 

Quentin Coldwater had wondered a thousand times why he was always the spare tire, why nobody ever loved him, why the hell he was never enough. He couldn’t help seeing himself as a problem for others, a burden. The boy wanted to get away. Run away, far away, maybe in Fillory, forever. And then Brakebills and magic came into his life. 

In October 2015, due to his worsening depression, Coldwater checked himself into a mental health clinic again for a weekend. This time he was the one going to Doctor London's office requesting his release, explaining that he realized he needed to grow past his love for Fillory and take his future seriously. At least that seemed to be everybody else’s wish. The doctor wasn’t so convinced that he left but Quentin stated that he wasn't a threat to himself or others and she allowed him to leave. 

After that day everything went fast. The interview for Yale, the discovery of the body of their interviewer, Eliza handing Quentin a package that contained a manuscript of the seemingly-lost additional book of Fillory and Further. Seeing the excitement Quentin still had for the series, Julia insisted he give up the childhood fantasy of Fillory as she had. So the two parted ways, Quentin began to read while walking. A gust of wind blew one of the pages away, causing him to chase after it. The page brought him to an abandoned lot, where he discovered a hidden portal that brought him to Brakebills University, where Eliot Waugh was waiting for him. He passed an Entrance Exam, then discovered his magical prowess when he manipulated a set of cards with his mind. The boy felt shocked and amazed at the same time. He could do magic. Real magic. Quentin felt that power flow out of his body and move the cards around like it was something he was used to doing. He finally belonged somewhere and that made him so fucking happy and he started to feel better without medicines. Quentin was later admitted to matriculate there along with the other studying magicians, spending his days with Eliot and Margo, his new friends.

But life was a bitch and so Jane Chatwin appeared in his dreams, telling him he should stay on “the golden path” and be careful because The Beast was coming for him. That’s how Alice Quinn, Penny Adiyodi and Kady Orloff-Diaz became part of his life too. 

The nine friends began their adventures…And misadventures.

Fillory was real. Quentin couldn’t fucking believe it. The joy that news brought in his heart was overwhelming and being there was even more.

Quentin got to become a King, Alice and Margo got to be Queens which was exciting but when Eliot decided to be the High King, everyone felt grateful and sad for his sacrifice. Q would have missed him so fucking much. His Eliot.

Julia was raped by a monster God, some fucking pshyco and made a deal with the Beast to help her kill him, fucking the friend’s plan up. Quentin wasn’t mad at her, he understood that Julia was upside down, something like that tears you apart. The boy felt like Julia’s rape was his fault, he had been selfish and stubborn, he should’ve asked Dean Fogg to make her do the fucking test again so she wouldn’t have joined hedge witches. 

Alice succeeded in killing the Beast but the cost was her life. She became a Niffin to save everyone, consuming all her power to kill the Beast. And Quentin, wounded, had to watch her do it and the harder part was when he had to free his cacodemon to keep Niffin Alice from killing Eliot and Margo. Next thing he knew she was dead and Quentin felt the world collapsing on his shoulders. He still loved her even if Alice considered him her “on and off boyfriend”. 

Margo had to make a deal with fairies for Eliot’s sake, which brought even more problems than before to Fillory. She lost Fen, Eliot’s baby, Eliot and her fucking eye. She was just trying to make right choices. Quentin was trying to make right choices too. He brought Alice back to life, joining Niffin Alice with Alice’s shade. Hurt came along with that because she wasn’t the girl he loved. She hated him when all Quentin desired was to have her back.

When Reinard was finally defeated, everyone had to focus on the God Ember, ready to destroy Fillory because he was bored. Umber came but his brother killed him for pretending to be dead and Quentin stabbed him with a sword. So the Major Gods took magic away from humans. Again, Q wanted to be a hero but so many kicks in the ass where coming. He fucked up again and he felt like he was still that kid who broke her mom’s favourite vase.

But the worst and at the same time the best part came after. Losing Alice felt nothing to Quentin after Eliot. While retrieving the seven keys to reactivate the magic, one of them required solving a mosaic representing “the beauty of all life”. Eliot and Quentin went back to old Fillory, where magic was still in the air and tried to have the key. But what happened was even more marvellous. 

Quentin had always looked at Eliot with a certain regard. Since the day he met him he was struck by him, but Q had major insecurity issues, he underestimated himself and compared himself to every boy Eliot spoke to and felt like being not enough. Truth was that Eliot felt bonded to Quentin and he couldn’t stop being hopelessly devoted to him.

In the Mosaic quest, Quentin rediscovered his true love for Eliot (not as a friend). At first he was scared of that feeling, too many “what if” wandered through his head. The days began to pass and so did the first few months: Eliot made him feel safe, no matter what was happening. It amazed him that he had been able to call life what was not  **_them_ ** . 

Language plays these tricks: sometimes it finds alternative words, doped up words, megalomaniac words. To call life what was not  **_them_ ** was a lying hyperbole, a way that words have of hiding what they should show.

Words came into being because we needed them. Those who invented words needed what others could not say. That's what Quentin felt when he looked at Eliot. He was what Q needed but couldn't say. When someone asked him what he saw in El, he could only answer "myself".

The secret of happiness is to go through the drops of words, is to be able to choose which drops of words to be bathed by. Your life is defined, in large part, by the words you choose to say and the words you choose to hear. Imagine: an actor at the end of a performance. He walks out into the street and has two options: take the street to the left or the street to the right. In the right way there is a group of spectators who loved the show while in the left way there is a group of spectators who hated the show. And the actor has to decide. He still doesn't know what people are saying to each other. And he has to decide. And it is by deciding what he would hear, what he would fatally hear, that he will define the rest of his life from that moment on. By taking one direction he would feel talented and able to pursue a great career; by taking the other he would feel frustrated and limited as an artist. Any direction can be final. He may never improve, already feeling like the greatest, or he may never return to acting because he thinks he will never be good enough to do it. Every day there are roads that define us, decisive roads that we must cross. Every day is decisive. Like words. Like  **_them_ ** . Before Eliot, Quentin wasn’t the happiest person in the world. And after him, he became the happiest person in the world. Before El, he thought he lacked nothing. But since he knew him he owned everything. Quentin loved Eliot. He did. With all the words.

So after a long year in Fillory, under the stars and the Moons, Q kissed El. Fuck everything he had to do it, now or never. It was the sweetest and most beautiful moment of their lives and Eliot’s heart exploded in happiness too. 

Eliot loved him, he loved Quentin more than anything else in the world. His eyes made him feel safe even in the middle of a war. His eyes had hands that picked him up and soothed him, that embraced him. His eyes had the power to love him without saying anything, shining with their own light. He could never lie to them and they had the most beautiful sunset in them. His eyes were saving him. And his smile, God, his smile lit up not only his days, but his whole life. His smile was the most beautiful thing in the world and it conveyed immense happiness to him. 

Eliot had found himself giving his whole heart to people unable to feel even the slightest heartbeat, so he thought for a moment that loving kindness is made of insubstantiality and that having a heart is completely futile.

He had found himself giving a hand to the broken loves of others and to their melted nights, then receiving loneliness in his turn of company. He thought for a moment that his good thoughts towards the world were nothing but utopian deficiencies and that having a heart, a real heart does not resemble at all the final scenes of American movies.

When Eliot had consoled those who turned their backs on his tears, he thought that he was the wrong one, the fool of the world, the careless one of love, and when he dedicated his best times to support those who had only thunderstorms inside and as many thunderstorms to be reciprocated, El thought for a second that it was all his fault, the fault of those who still believe in it, the fault of those who put their hearts into a world of high mechanics. 

But then Quentin put his lips on his, Eliot thought that he had not wasted time, nothing is wasted time.

Nothing is “bad time”.

It's just that he, unlike the others, had taken every opportunity to be a real person.

Eliot knew within love there were also misunderstandings, dissonances, disagreements.

There were not only the best violins among the orchestras of their beats, there also disharmonious melodies, drummers out of time and drumsticks that directed notes without knowing well the score of the heart.

Love was there, but it was also quid pro quo.

It was coming together but also recognizing when to move apart a little, just enough to breathe, just enough not to suffocate.

Love knew how to always go forward, but it was also full of divergences, of painful detours, interminable paths, interrupted roads, paths to be taken again and it was not afraid to go back because it was out of any race and further ahead, it knew very well that there were no goals...otherwise the dance would have a goal.

Love had a unique taste but it was made of different flavors. It was making creams coexist with fruit in the ice cream tub of life.

It was made of great misunderstandings, but it was also made of great understood seas: there were also misunderstandings inside. There were difficulties and struggles, essential meditations, holds to leave and dialogues to take on the fly. 

It was not only spring and wild herbs, it was also December and arnica to spread, it was made of commitment and open hands, and not of carelessness in the fist.

Love showed the monsters they had inside, the obstacles yet to be jumped and how many things there were of themselves yet to be looked at.

Quentin was the chance Eliot had to become a better person.

And they both became better, living a whole life together. A whole wonderful life. 50 years. Peaches and plums.

When El died, Quentin was struck by a pain that he hadn't felt in years hurt him, a twinge in his stomach, an image of his smile, the memory of the first glance, the smell of his hair. Everything became precious and dangerously distant, like in a photograph.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye to him, to kiss him one last time, to thank him for a fucking amazing life and for all the love and patience he gave and had. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t found the key because they had found something of inestimable value. Eliot made Quentin truly happy.

That day an old Quentin Coldwater had to bury an old Eliot Waugh. A golden square, like the other pieces of the Mosaic, collided with the metal of the shovel. Not only Eliot’s life ended that day, the key was finally in Quentin's hands. “We did it, El” he thought just before young Jane Chatwin came along and took that key. Now it was all in Margo’s hands. 

Needless to say, the girl managed to stop those two assholes from going to the Mosaic again. Everything from there was smooth until, back in Fillory, Eliot and Quentin found somethings deeply connected with the Eliot and Quentin of the other timeline. 

Q’s letter to Margo. A basket of peaches and plums. 

Eliot bit a peach, Quentin sat down. Both were overwhelmed by memories, by a whole life of memories. Memories beat within them like a second heart.

This time one was scared shitless and the other was feeling brave. 

Eliot fucked up, his fear made him say shit like “I love you but this is not me and definitely not you”. He didn’t even know what the fuck that meant. Why did he say it? Why the fuck he let fear conquer him? And El knew the answer only when the Monster possessed him, and Charlton told him that the only way out was through his darkest memory. 

Ah yes, the Monster. Quentin helped that thing inside Eliot’s body only to have his friend, no, his  **_lover_ ** , back. 

It had his body, but it didn’t move gracefully like his El.

It had his eyes, but it didn’t look at him with nostalgic love like his El. 

It had his voice, but it didn’t call him stupid, cute little names like his El.

It had his heart, but Quentin couldn’t feel his El’s love, still as strong as in the Mosaic timeline.

It fucking hurt and when the Monster convinced him that Eliot was dead...Quentin simply shut down, he had been stabbed by a hundred swords. 

One of the last times Quentin saw his dad, they had argued. The son expressed his guilt for the father’s disease and the latter had told him that many people take the body too seriously. That they say that it is thanks to it that we can say that a person lives or not, he thought it was stupid. Ted Coldwater told his son that people lived inside him, Q just had to close his eyes to be together with them, there wasn’t a greater closeness than that. 

You never die on the right side.

You change places to change perspectives: so that pain hurts differently.

Quentin had preferred to stay, to continue to feel the same pain, to find out how far he could go to save Eliot - or what was left of him. Then the miracle of sharing happened: he closed his eyes, he came, he held him in his arms, he said "save me, Q" in his ear and he ran his fingers over his skin as if he wanted to save him from the flesh. 

You change people so that it hurts less to be a coward.

“We exist to explain escape, or little more. No one can bear the loss, and everything is lost: that's what no one explains but everyone wants. Life is a finite construction, a temporary building to which you devote your whole life. Cheers to those who seek consistency, the maintenance of logic!” the words of professor Mayakovsky came to Quentin’s mind.

You change what you believe in to ward off death.

He had believed in medicine only if it saved lives. He seeked salvation, never wisdom. He changed everything but love.

Quentin changed everything about himself except Eliot.

And in the middle of that park, Quentin knew he made the right choice to not give up on him.

\- Q. It’s me, it’s Eliot - he said softly, trying to reach him. had searched hard through embarrassing, frightening, painful memories, but in only one was the door. Charlton had told him to look where he didn't want to look, and he had returned to the moment he most regretted. 

Fillory. Quentin and Eliot from the past. That conversation. 

Eliot had interrupted his memory, calling himself an idiot, telling himself he was a coward, and then he'd walked up to Quentin and kissed him. That was the way it should have been.

And now Q was standing in front of him, scared, confused.

\- Okay, no games. Let’s just go - Quentin answered. He had enough of the Monsters stupid games. He needed Eliot back and that wasn’t helping.

\- It’s Eliot - he repeated but the other man wasn’t believing him.

\- No, bullshit. C’mon - signaled him to go. If it was a joke it wasn't funny at all. It was fucking frustrating.

\- 50 years. Who gets proof of concept like that?- Eliot finally could get closer without Quentin backing off distrustfully. 

\- What?- Quentin heart’s stopped. The Monster couldn’t know that. Was it really El? He...Wasn’t he dead? He stared at him and Eliot shook his head, then got closer and pushed slightly his shoulder. 

\- Peaches and plums motherfucker. I’m alive in here - the dark haired man smiled at him. He needed to tell Quentin so many things.

He would’ve liked to tell him. He would’ve liked. 

He would’ve liked to look at him. He would’ve liked to look at him with force - how do you look with force?

And tell him. 

He would’ve liked to say yes. Always yes. From the first no, he'd say yes.

To tell him he wanted him. To look at him with force. To tell him. He’d like to. 

Tell him. Deny the no. Deny the no that had always - where did the always begin? - been yes. 

Tell him he missed. Tell him he ran away. Tell him he left.

He would’ve liked to. Tell him there. Tell him now. Tell him already.

He would’ve liked to. He always wanted to.

He wished, love. Love.

\- Eliot - he stared at him, his face relaxed and words stuck in his throat. Quentin’s heart began to beat again, he was alive, the Monster lied. Fuck, he could get him back. He could have El back! But before he could tell Eliot that he would save him no matter what and that he loved him, the Monster was back.

Quentin kept that promise to himself and he brought it forward with all the strength inside himself. 

Everything happened so fast, too fast. The Monster’s sister, Margo and her axes, the plan to kill those things before they could kill every person on the planet and the Gods. 

When one of Margo’s axes pierced Eliot’s body, he fell to the ground, starting to lose a lot of blood. Quentin kneeled next to him, scared of losing him just before he could say anything. Margo was pressing on his wound, that was bleeding profusely, and she was begging him to stay alive, to give them a sign she didn’t stab him to death. Quentin felt the same pain Margo was feeling. Eliot was the love of their lives in the same way: the love of a friend is the same as that of a lover. If it had been anyone else who was not Quentin, Margo would’ve told them to move and let her handle it, but it was Q and she just knew. 

Penny called attention, pointing out that they didn't have a lot of time on their hands. So Margo brought Eliot to professor Lipson and Quentin, Alice and Penny went to the Seam. 

Now that El was almost safe, Quentin felt the urge to return to his body like he was coming home. His lips and a hug. The extra clothes when he wanted him that way. The neighbors envious that someone loved completely. He loved how El sheltered in his chest, his arms open and El as if waiting for death to come. It was so incomprehensible to his skin. The urge to cry. Either there was eternity or there was nothingness. The brute flesh was a poem in their orgasm. Q liked how El asked him to be human. There was something solemn about the way he made him lose his shame. To be happy was to make sin believable, and certainly to sin.

Eliot woke up hours later, feeling a sharp twinge in his abdomen. He was short of breath at first, then stabilized. He looked around with difficulty, hoping he wasn't all alone. To his left was someone, looking out the window as if waiting for a letter from the letter carrier. His Bambi was with him. 

\- Bambi - he said in a low voice. It was strange to be in control of his body. After so many months, he was finally able to act and make the words that he wanted come out of her lips. He felt like he was dreaming, it was as if he was watching himself from the outside, as if he was not yet fully in control. 

Margo turned toward him, running alongside him, taking his hand. Eliot noticed that her face was streaked with tears, her eyes were tired and she couldn't speak to him. She merely kissed his knuckles, then began stroking his face and curly hair. She was thinking how good it felt to have him back. He had missed him like air and had been afraid he was dead. She would never know what to do without him, Eliot was a piece of her, the most fundamental piece. Her sad tears became bittersweet tears: sweet because her best friend was safe and alive, bitter because soon she had to tell him something. Unfortunately for Margo, Eliot knew her well and noticed her mood switch.

\- Please, if I’m dying just tell me already - Eliot said to her, joking. 

\- Don’t even joke about that…- Margo answered, looking down at him severely. She could’ve lost him. 

\- So what is it? - he asked again, this time it was him taking both of her hands in his. And Margo, after taking a deep breath, told him. She saw his eyes fill with tears, his chest go up and down as if he was searching for air. It hurt so much to see those who loved her suffer because she suffered in turn, so stupidly. Margo gave him a moment and Eliot suddenly got up. He stood up. He didn't care about the pain his wound was causing him, he didn't care that he was barefoot, he didn't care that he still had his IVs attached, and he didn't care about Margo trying to get him back in bed. 

In front of him was only a wall. Around him only a wall. A closed road. A constant asphyxia. A feeling of a tight throat, a silent fear, an oppressive agony.

Margo had never seen Eliot act like that. She had seen him cry and at his worst but this...This anger was new. 

\- El, honey, sit down...C’mon let’s calm down a minute - the girl put her hand on his shoulders when he reached the door. She was worried as fuck for him.

\- Move, Margo, move! - Eliot yelled, slamming his foot on the ground like a child, leaving Bambi without words. He took the opportunity to escape from her hands, running down the hallway. He didn't even last two seconds; his wound gave way before he did, resuming bleeding and hurting. Eliot doubled over in pain and Margo picked him up in time. As soon as she held him tight, he bursted out in tears. He screamed loudly, painfully. His heart was torn apart. 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot's in pain but Quentin is still with him.

Quentin wandered around that gray place looking for something to bring him home. All he could think about was Eliot, if he was okay, if they had been able to save him. He thought about the mad desire he had to hold him again and tell him he had missed him. 

Quentin didn't want to die, not really after all that effort. His back had been hit by its own magic, a thousand little burns that felt like they had been bullet hits. He'd seen Penny carry Alice away, had seen her scream and cry for him, had seen her try to grab him, but she hadn't been able to. Penny's eyes had seemed sad, but full of courage. One look had been enough for him to understand and he had acted accordingly.

Quentin, however, still felt bound to life by a thin thread. He had been unconscious for a while, but then woke up in the same room as the mirror that swallowed the Monster and its sister. The air was the only thing different. It was heavier, it felt almost poisonous. So he got up and hurried to find a way out before he went straight to the Underworld. Q had some unfinished business with Eliot. He had done everything to save him and, even if he rejected him in Fillory, Quentin knew that he had done that to protect himself. He was no fool, he lived 50 years with El, so lies and fear were nothing new to him. 

_ "If I am not standing here in front of you, then something has gone wrong with the world.  _

_ Maybe too many cities in between, maybe too many vehicles in the city covering the tips of our eyes, maybe you are facing walls that cover my gaze or maybe you are walled in by gazes that are not me. _

_ before resigning yourself, circumvent the concrete, go beyond all the dwellings that do not contain me, conjugate the crossroads, stick your neck out to smooth out the slopes. _

_ if you still don't see me in front of you, change the road, take the other one, change the other one, take the road. never underestimate a u-turn. _

_ Consider the small paths, value even the alleys, do not exclude the mountain: if there is to climb, climb and if you still do not find me here within reach then apply to the sea, ask advice to the rivers and evaluate the forest but do not stop looking for me. _

_ don't stop yet because I swear I'm here somewhere looking for you too. _

_ Eliot, please look for me."  _

Quentin felt weaker and weaker. He had tried to reach his friends by every mirror he found, but it wasn’t working. Then he had an idea: maybe if he found the mirror Penny had marked with his blood when they had arrived, Q would've been able to go back to his world. So the search began again, more determined than before. 

Quentin found himself thinking about Eliot. Again. He loved him from the place they were, from the place where Q was. In his mind he pictured the place where El smiled at him for the first time and it was paradise. He loved him from the farthest place, from where he was now, and asked the wind that tears the leaves and goes away fast to lift Eliot’s hair and bring him his voice. How bad it hurt, how loneliness hurt while he loved the one who was not there, how much it hurt to love him from there, loving him like that! 

And there all things said his name and sang their song, their words, and prayed to God to bring him back.

What a pain it was to be alone.

Eliot couldn’t stop to think about Quentin. The only thing in his brain were the words Margo said with sad eyes. 

_ “It’s Q...My God, I don’t know how to say this without hurting you…He’s gone, he’s dead”.  _

He felt so fucking angry. Life couldn’t take his perfect, beautiful soul. That bitch couldn’t take away from him the boy he loved. El needed to tell him so bad how he felt, he wanted to tell him about his memory, about how he got to take control of his body for five seconds to speak to him. It was so wrong, everything was wrong. Only anger in his heart. It wasn’t fair. Quentin didn’t deserve that. Quentin deserved some fucking peace, but not from dead! Quentin deserved to live, to be with his friends, with him, to laugh and have fun, he deserved to breathe because only by breathing he made everything lighter. 

Death needs two people. Death always needs two people. The one who dies and the one who accepts death. But Eliot just couldn’t accept Q’s death. No. Never. 

He bursted out crying in Margo’s arms and from that moment he didn’t stop. 

El didn’t know if tears were still streaming down his face uncontrollably, they fell down naturally right from his heart and he didn't even know if he still had any. He was alone in his stupid, depressing bed, unable to sleep, feeling pain inside and out. With Penny’s help, Margo brought him to his own room in the Cottage so he would have a moment alone. Everyone needed a moment. Julia, Alice, Kady too. Quentin was the one who brought them together, he was their light. And now he had left a huge blank spot, a void. 

_ “What you're doing is very heroic. Now, I mean that. But what's the difference between a live hero and a dead moron?” _

_ “Food tasters?” _

_ “No...One dumb decision. So when it's be brave or be smart... You know which one, okay?” _

If only Q for once decided to be smarter than braver...He would be with him. 

\- Honey? Can I come in? - Margo's voice rang out from the other side of the door. She had knocked gently, almost as if she was afraid of him. Eliot remembered how Margo’s eyes were filled with fear every time she was in front of the Monster, he remembered every single thing of these past months. He shivered for a moment.

\- El? - she knocked again but this time opened the door anyways. The girl saw him lying still, with his eyes pointed at the ceiling and in the same clothes she had left him in, despite asking him to change. But she understood Eliot, she understood him better than anyone else. 

\- How about we put something nice on, mh? - Margo sat on the bed, taking his hand, waiting for Eliot to say a word. That was the first time ever in which Margo didn’t know what to do. She just felt...useless.

\- For what? - he answered, his voice just a bit louder than a whisper. Her friend got up and started to choose some black clothes for him. She didn’t want him to regret that moment. 

\- The others are outside, doing something special for Q. So now you get up, put on a cute outfit and take anything that reminds you of him...Please? - Margo turned to look at him with the garment she chose. Eliot sighed and got up slowly. He didn’t have the strength to fight her.

So with her help, Eliot got dressed up, took his stick and made sure to bring a peach in his coat. He had noticed Margo holding Quentin’s crown from Fillory. Tears returned to lurk in his eyes. Why did it have to hurt that much?

\- Hey, eyes on me - his Bambi took his face in her soft hands. She caressed his cheeks with her thumbs, drawing small circles.

\- Why did it fall to Q and not to me? He was the purest and bravest person in this world and...Why the fuck am I the one still alive and well to converse with you? - Eliot shook his head. That was the main oppressive thought in his mind. He never saw himself as a good person and after the Monster he began to think he was the worst.

\- No, El. I won’t let you believe these bullshits. Don't let his death destroy you, instead honor him with your own life. The life that Quentin gifted you by destroying that thing that had stolen you from us - Margo fixed the hem of his coat and opened the door. Eliot didn’t say a word...He felt even more guilty and broken. He loved her, she tried to lift his spirit, he respected her effort. 

When they arrived by the fire, their friends were singing “Take on Me” for Quentin. Two objects were already between the flames: a mug from Brakebills South, a Fillory book and a little egg with a smiley face on.

- _ So needless to say _

_ I'm odds and ends _

_ But I'll be stumbling away _

_ Slowly learning that life is okay _

_ Say after me It's no better to be safe than sorry  _ \- Eliot sang and everyone present turned to look at him. He slowly sat down next to Alice, who slid her hand over his to join them, while Margo walked over to the fire. She stood for a few seconds staring at the crown in her hands, probably the memory of that day developing in her mind. Quentin was so happy that day. He dreamt to be King of Fillory since he was a kid, it was so sweet seeing him smiling proudly.

She threw the crown in and after her, Fogg did the same with Quentin’s enrollment paper to Brakebills. 

Eliot was feeling like he was under torture. His breath was cut short and he was holding back, trying to be as composed as always. It was his turn. El took out of his pocket the peach. It was incredible how a simple thing brought back memories of a whole life. 

The first day, the first month, the first year. 

Their first kiss, their first time (alone and sober), even their first fight. 

The way their eyes met, their smiles, their tender moments under the stars. 

Arielle and Teddy. Them being a family. 

Teddy’s first word, Teddy’s first steps, Teddy’s loving his dads so much. 

Their love growing and growing day by day. 

He should’ve said yes. He should’ve said he loved him too before it was too late. But now it was late. 

Eliot tossed the peach in the fire, then lowered his head and kept singing. He had to hold his body to keep himself together. That was so fucking painful. 

When the song ended, Eliot was the last one to stay with Julia. Dean Fogg left first, then Kady, after Alice and Penny. Margo had tried to get Eliot, but she left him be and went away too. 

Eliot enjoyed Julia’s company. Both of them were quiet, they didn’t speak, they were just limited to the pain of the loss of a fundamental person in their lives. 

Guilt is a strange thing. After all, it only manifests itself to the innocent.

When Eliot’s heart couldn’t take it anymore, he ran away, as if someone had just said some horrible things to him, back in his room at the Cottage. He locked himself in, ready to finally let his emotions out. He was a flooding river.

El wandered around the room, he let his hands go through his black hair and his breath was heavier. He started to cry again and instinctively kicked the chair next to the door. 

\- Q...I don’t know if you can hear me, but I wish you were here and it was with you that I wanted to spend my days...I'm sorry, but I will never abandon you - he stopped for a second, feeling dumb for speaking at the walls. - You will have my words, every day, just as it has always been, Q. You will have my eyes closed in yours, as yours always closed mine - his voice trembled, his tears getting heavier, streaming down his face. - Do you remember that as soon as you fell asleep, I fell asleep immediately too? As if we were linked by some biological mechanism. You would say: I'm going to sleep now. And I didn't say anything...I simply watched you, slowly, as you closed your eyes and, at the same time, I closed mine, slowly, as slowly as you closed yours. And so we fell asleep, every day and every night together, really together, sleeping the same sleep. Not even while sleeping did we stop being united - a hiccup fell from Eliot’s lips. His gaze went to the ceiling, trying to send back more tears. - If I dreamed, I dreamed of you. I felt you inside everything I lived. You were the external part of me, the body that belonged to me just as life belongs to me. Don't think of it as allowing you to die - the boy sat on his armchair next to the window. The Moon was shining and it reminded him of Quentin. His chest was heavy and breathing was hard between the hiccups. - Where are you? I need to live one more time. Please, Q...I love you - his breath died in his throat. He broke down once more, head in hands, silence penetrating his brain. Eliot never cried that much.

Then a voice. No, not a generic voice. Quentin’s voice.

_ \- Eliot  _ \-  _. _

He thought he was officially going crazy. But when he raised his head and looked around the room, in the mirror right in front of him, there was Quentin’s reflection. El got up immediately, approaching the mirror and putting his hands on the glass to reach him. If that was a dream or a hallucination, it would’ve hurt after, but for now he was going to enjoy every second. 

\- Eliot, ehi, stop crying - he said, feeling sorry. Quentin had listened to everything Eliot said to him and he was crying himself. It was thanks to him if Q had found a way to speak to him. It must’ve been the pain or his deep connection to Eliot, but as he walked toward the room from which he had come, an immense light had almost blinded him, then Eliot's voice. He had followed it, chased it until he reached a mirror identical to the one in El's room and listened to him in silence. 

His first thought was "I saved him. He's fine."

Then he realized he was “fine” only physically. He had never seen Eliot like this in this timeline, but his reactions were not completely foreign to him. It had happened in Fillory, too, that he was breaking down, but these feelings seemed to be eating him alive to the core. Quentin wanted to interrupt him, to tell him he was there, but then he was captivated by his sincere words. Eliot was saying he still loved him, was trying to tell him that just like him, he felt he loved him. 

Now Eliot was staring at him, his hands wandering around, trying to catch him and touch him. His eyes were greener when he cried. To Quentin, Eliot was the most handsome individual alive even when he was at his lowest point.

\- Quentin - El called his name, afraid he would soon disappear. 

\- I’m here, I’m with you now - Q spoke. His time in that poisonous mirror realm was about to end if no one helped him to exit, but he had to reassure Eliot.

\- Am I hallucinating? - he asked, he was ready to run around the world on his feet for him. Eliot didn’t know if the Quentin he was seeing was real, he hadn’t been in a healthy mental space in the last hours, but he was going to help anyways if Quentin needed him.

\- If you were, how would you ask me help? - the guy in the mirror answered with another question. He did the exact same thing Eliot did when they first met and Q was the one asking if he was hallucinating. Eliot knew, he smiled after bawling his eyes out all day long. They stared at each other and tried to fucking touch, join hands, kiss, but there was a thick glass separating them.

\- Are you okay? Q, how do I get you out of this thing? - Eliot let his fingers ghost at the level of Quentin’s cheek. 

\- I think I’m fine...I need you to talk to Alice about this, she’s the only one who knows the Mirror realm - Quentin placed his hands on the same level as Eliot’s. There was no time to speak about the things he heard, he had to stay alive first. 

\- It might be a problem - El said. He saw Alice putting her suitcases next to the door, ready to leave. Margo had tried to stop her and begged her to stay because they all needed her, but Alice was feeling as broken as Eliot. She couldn’t stand being at Brakebills, she couldn’t stand being in the Cottage, she couldn’t stand being in her room where she shared everything with Quentin. That’s why Eliot didn’t oppose, he knew the sorrow inside her.

\- What? - Q wrinkled his eyebrows. 

\- She was going back to her mom’s house... - the other man lowered his gaze. 

\- I need her, El. I can’t die here - he shook his head and those words seemed to shake Eliot. Of course Quentin loved her, of course he was in love with Alice and not him. What was he expecting? 

\- I’ll go look around for her, maybe she’s still here - so he answered, almost offended, for a moment he thought about leaving him there. And Quentin noticed and smiled, Eliot could get so jealous at times, it was cute and silly.

\- Thank you - Q nodded, raising his hands again, inviting El to put his against them one last time.

\- Wait here. Please, just...Don’t go - Eliot did what Q suggested and then pleaded. Fuck, if that was fruit of his imagination he would let himself just die in his bed for the rest of his life.

\- I won’t. I promise - he said, tucking his hair behind his ears. Quentin watched him go to the door and just before he could go out, he called his attention back. - El?-.

\- Yes? - the other man turned around. 

\- I love you too - Q smiled at him. Eliot understood he heard, he knew and...He felt the same? Well, he would figure it out after Alice got him in their world, in the real world, safe and back with all of the people who loved him so much. 

Alice and Eliot got back fifteen minutes after. El was afraid Quentin was gone, but when he opened the door and checked the mirror, he was there, waiting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you liked this second chapter, the next one will be up soon. Feel free to leave some kudos and let me know what do you think <3 Love you all xoxo


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter !!!

When Eliot had left the room in search of Alice, he had noticed a smile on his lips. Quentin had just told him that he loved him. And he was alive or something. It was up to him to save him now, and he would succeed at any cost. 

Once in front of the door to his friend's room, Eliot had knocked softly, unhurriedly, so as not to startle her. The more he thought about it, the more he knew Alice wouldn't believe him. She had been the one to see him die struck by her magic. She, along with Penny, had been the last person to see him. And it was she, even though she was a Niffin, who had discovered that practicing magic in the realm of mirrors was not a good idea. Plus Alice loved Quentin just as much as Eliot, who had never allowed himself to belittle her and put himself first. Unfortunately or fortunately, the girl had no knowledge of the relationship between the two boys, she was unaware (as was the rest of the group except Margo) that they had lived a life together in Fillory and El wished she hadn't broken her heart. 

\- Alice? It's Eliot, are you in there? - she knocked again. The answer didn't come, but the sound of the key turning in the lock caught her attention. A second later his blonde haired friend was in front of him, inviting him to enter with a gesture of the head. 

\- Are you okay? - he said, worrying first about how she was feeling and then about the rest. His humanity sometimes seemed not to exist, instead it was as huge as the whole world. For the people he loved he would do anything, anything at all, and he had proved it when he had agreed to stay in Fillory as High King. 

\- I am. What do you need Eliot? - Alice adjusted her glasses on her face better, crossing her arms. She looked angry with him, as if she wanted to slap him for life.

\- You're not, c'mon talk to me - Eliot tried to approach her and put his hand on her shoulder, but she moved away. It would not have been easy. 

\- Please, don't start. Just tell me why you're here. If you needed a shoulder to cry on you would be in Margo's room - she became defensive, stepping back as Eliot tried to get closer to her.

\- Alright. I'm gonna tell you why I'm here...But after a hug - the boy cornered her, or tried to. He hated that she was blaming him for Quentin's death, he could see the pain and anger in her eyes, but he couldn't blame her. He had blamed himself, too.

\- A hug? Really? I'm not touching someone that is responsible for my boyfriend's death, I'm not touching you - she pointed at him, emphasizing the last words with a more aggressive tone. 

\- Ouch - Eliot brought a hand to his chest as if she had physically hit him. With a dagger. Or a sword. In short, with something sharp and painful. Alice had just said out loud what he himself had been obsessively thinking.

\- You don't even look upset, what the fuck, he was your friend! - Alice raised her voice again, her face was distraught, as irreparably destroyed as Eliot's was just before. 

\- Maybe if you listen to m...- the boy tried to speak, but he was interrupted. If only Alice had let him speak, she would have known why he was so quiet. Quentin was alive, that's the only reason why he didn't seem to be upset, but in fact he had been in the same state as his friend for a long time. It had been his pain that had called Q back.

\- No! I'm not, I won't. I fucking hate you. He died for you, because of you and I will never forgive you for it. Fuck you - she continued. By now the brake that she had put on her anger was unlocked, in fact it was definitely broken into a thousand pieces, leaving room for her fury towards Eliot.

\- Alice - she tried to make herself heard, she tried to take her hand to calm her down.

\- And, and...And I haven't seen you shed a tear and you came in here smiling and laughing. You know what I've been thinking? That you should've been in Q's place. He should be alive, not you - she said. The silence fell. In the room fell a coldness never felt before. Alice put her hands in front of her lips, as if trying to take back what she had said, regretting it. Eliot nodded slightly. The message was more than clear. 

\- Okay, thank you for your kind words. I'm sorry for bothering you - he headed for the door. He wasn't offended, angry at himself or disappointed. He wasn't. He himself had asked Margo why he was the one alive and not Q.

Why did it fall to Q and not to me? He was the purest and bravest person in this world and...Why the fuck am I the one still alive and well to converse with you?

Yet hearing it from Alice had hurt even more. She had been the one to hold his hand in front of the fire while they sang Take On Me for Quentin. It was she who had stroked his back to reassure him. It had been her, in front of the fire that night, telling him not to feel guilty, that Quentin had chosen to be a hero to everyone. 

Then these words. It all made no sense, he had missed passages. Many passages. 

\- No, Eliot, wait. I'm sorry - Alice took his hand to stop him. She was touching him for the first time. The contact seemed to burn the skin of both of them.

\- I came here to tell you he's alive. I came here to ask you to help me save Quentin, but I guess I'm gonna do it by myself - he turned to look into her eyes. 

\- What? No, I saw him die - she was incredulous, for a moment she thought he was joking.

\- Well, I saw him in my fucking mirror - he replied in a sarcastic tone, but seriously. That was literally what had happened.

\- He spoke to you? - the girl asked again, the thought that Quentin was alive becoming more and more clear.

\- Yes - Eliot nodded. Something in Alice's gaze changed.

\- I'll help you. And I'm sorry, I didn't... - Alice opened the door before him, and then tried to apologize, but the boy intervened before she could finish.

\- No worries - and walked out of the colorful room to guide her towards his own.

Alice and Eliot got back fifteen minutes after. El was afraid Quentin was gone, but when he opened the door and checked the mirror, he was there, waiting.

\- You can see him, right? - he asked Alice. She nodded. Then looked around. Eliot had made a mess in his room. Books thrown on the floor, a chair down, his lamp broken. She started to realize Eliot wasn’t and hadn’t been fine as she thought. 

\- You’re back, thank God - Quentin broke the tension. 

\- Quentin - the girl said. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Eliot didn’t lie, Quentin was alive and trapped in the Mirror Realm. Fortunately Zelda had asked her to help her daughter, who was in the same situation as Q was. Alice knew exactly what to do, this time without mistakes. 

\- Hi Alice - the boy in the mirror smiled, but he seemed to have a certain rush. 

\- How? - Alice couldn't explain what happened in her brain, there were a lot of infos that didn’t make sense together.

\- I don’t know but the air is basically poison and probably this world will disintegrate soon so please get me out. You did it with Zelda’s daughter - Quentin pushed her to begin the spell, he needed fresh air and he felt the urge to touch Eliot, to caress his face and kiss him. Eliot was standing far away from him and Alice, and Quentin knew he felt weird and not wanted. He always felt inferior to Alice in one way or another.

\- I can do even better than that time - she spoke and nodded. She grew and her magic grew with her.

\- Okay so please, please help me - he pleaded.

\- Let’s get him out - the girl said to the boy next to her and started to search for everything she needed around the cottage. Eliot followed her around, holding a box where she threw magic objects and some shits he didn’t know why were useful. When they got back upstairs, Quentin was on the floor, still trapped, gasping for air. It was now or never. Alice had to save him immediately. Then she realized her magic wasn’t enough so Eliot started coping her hands gestures, using his magic too. 

They worked together, they used their love for Q to fuel the spell.

Then a light and Quentin got through the mirror stumbling and falling into Eliot’s arms. He caught him on time and he held him tight. Before he could notice, he was crying again. 

_ Quentin is in my arms. _

_ I’m in Eliot’s arms. _

Quentin snuggled into him and tugged lightly at his tie, then gently placed his lips on El's. He didn't care about anything but him, about them, about the love he felt, about missing the person who had been taken from him for too long by a monster.

In the darkness, in the daylight

In perfect silence while it rains hard

Above sea level, above the roof of the world

Light years away or one second away

And so on forever, losing count

Keep the kiss beyond the error of time

Make it something eternal

Don't let a single fragment fall

Like dust on the floor

Don't part your lips for a single second

And don't let the background noise distract you

Cause in the end, every time

It's love that saves us from the wound of the world

And all you feel is your heart, and there's no evil anymore

And there's no more pain, just me, just you

This silence tastes like a thousand words

And I would stay here and listen to you for hours

For years or a single second

And if you look at me I realize

That in the end, every time

It's only love that saves us from the wound of the world

Protect it to the roots

From the indecisive steps and sudden storms

From moments of crisis and unhappy jokes

From those people who pretend to be friends

From the envy of others, from ignorant judgments

From the crazy splinters coming from all sides

Keep the kiss beyond the error of time

Make it something eternal

Don't let a single fragment fall

Like dust on the floor

Don't part your lips for a second

And don't let the background noise distract you

Cause in the end, every time

It's love that saves us from the wound of the world

And all you feel is your heart, and there's no evil anymore

And there's no more pain, just me, just you

This silence tastes like a thousand words

And I would stay here and listen to you for hours

For years or a single second

And now that you look at me I realize

That in the end, every time

It's only love that saves us from the wound of the world

And from the repetition of days not worth a memory

Hold the kiss and don't leave it even for a second

And the longer I stand here looking at you, the more I realize it

It is love that saves us from the wound of the world.

Alice’s heels woke them up from the moment. She had left the room, she ran away. Who could blame her? She loved Quentin too and was used to having him, winning him every time. But not this one. Eliot hinted at getting up and following her, but Quentin stopped him. 

\- No, let's talk to her tomorrow - he said and resumed kissing him. Eliot relaxed under his touch, he couldn't even explain that feeling. Quentin guided them to the bed, pushing El’s down by the shoulders. Then Q slowly sat down on Eliot's legs, straddling him.

They continued to kiss, it wasn't an aggressive kiss but a sweet one in which they could feel all the love one felt for the other. Eliot's hands caressed his back until they reached his hips and then down on his ass. His gestures made the boy sitting on him shiver, feeling the need to hold him tight, to protect him from all his paranoia. Quentin kept his hands on his neck and still stroked his cheeks with his thumbs.

They pulled away briefly, smiling, as if everything that had happened just moments before was a distant memory. They both managed to heal themselves, to make themselves less distressed.

Eliot grabbed Q and stood up, holding the boy who clung to him surprised. El left gentle kisses on his neck, Quentin ran his hands through his dark hair.

Eliot laughed softly as a quiver escaped Quentin’s lips and then he pulled away. For a second the other boy was afraid that he had somehow pushed him away, but he didn't have enough time to think about it, because the next second El had dropped him on the bed.

Q squeaked, then looked into the eyes of the boy above him and smiled. The soft fabric of the bed felt incredibly soft and cool against his skin, like he was sinking into it. Eliot was lying on top of him. No shirt, thankfully.

He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by everything that was going on, trying to calm his breathing.

The sight of Eliot caught Quentin completely off guard, his hair was messed up because of him, his pupils dilated. It was the first time he'd noticed the small trail of hair on the lower part of his stomach that went into his pants.

He bit his lip and nodded his head when El asked if that was really what he wanted, forgetting how to talk and that had often happened to him. Almost always.

Eliot closed the distance between them and kissed him again, Q's head spinning. He began to trace a trail of kisses and bites to just above the elastic of his pants. He liked the way the boy on top of him let him have those gentle bites. In no time the smaller boy had found himself naked beneath the other one. Eliot deftly moved a hand over his member, causing Quentin to moan as he continued to admire it. He kissed his length from bottom to top and then welcomed it entirely between his lips. The boy beneath him clutched the sheets, now pervaded by the pleasure the other was giving him.

It was all so overwhelming and confusing to Quentin.

But only in the best way possible.

Before he could cum, Eliot pulled away and returned to his face level, staying to watch him. Q's cheeks were red, his pupils dilated, and at that sight alone, El felt like he was going out of his mind.

\- You take something off too - Quentin murmured shortly against Eliot's lips, it was the only coherent thought he had at that moment. He knew it would all make sense to him if El finally got naked.

\- Don't be impatient - Eliot replied between kisses, which became more toothy as they both smiled.

\- You're not the one already naked, so shut up -.

Eliot had laughed and pulled away from Quentin, making him whimper and leaving him unbearably lonely. He couldn't help himself, almost biting his hands off, hating himself for being so fucking attached to Eliot's proximity.

Q stared intently at his toned body, smothered in tiny freckles and tanned just right.

He was fascinated, almost hypnotized, by El’s freckles. It wasn’t the first time he saw him naked, but they looked almost astral, hundreds of thousands of them, splattered across his body and reaching up to his face, assembling stars in the dark night sky.

This time it was Quentin saying how fucking beautiful the other was, making Eliot's shy smile grow. Maybe he was even blushing a little. It hurt Q's heart and he thought this situation was probably the most adorable thing he'd ever witnessed.

\- I think I'm going to count them all night long. Your freckles, I mean - he said, pulling El close again for another kiss. This one was less heated, but still as passionate as the ones before.

He let his tongue explore Eliot's mouth for a while, lazy but intense, not caring how much time had passed, because really, they had all the time in the world and Quentin wanted this night to never end.

But of course Eliot broke the kiss at some point, smiling and apologizing. Then he removed his hands from Q's torso, leaving only a strange feeling on his skin.

Matt was unbuttoning his pants and when he finally did, he literally felt complete. It was like something was missing from him, and El was that missing piece.

Matt threaded his fingers through Quentin's hair, making him purr. Being stroked like that by him was literally the most incredible feeling ever.

\- You’re so handsome - El whispered, almost in adoration, his touch was so soft, as if he was afraid to break Quentin

\- I've never seen anything like you - he continued. The soft praise coming from the other's mouth was music to his ears, flowing through his system like thick honey, making him feel warm and loved, understood and longing for more.

Eliot took Quentin’s face in both hands and kissed him again, kissed him as if he needed to breathe and didn't let himself for too long, as if he'd been underwater and only now managed to rise to the surface.

Q smiled into the kiss, feeling like perhaps the happiest boy on the planet. Soft giggles escaped his lips and printed themselves on El’s tongue, creating a thousand colors.

Eliot slid one more hand between his legs. Without hesitation and with just the right amount of pressure, he pushed a finger inside him, making Quentin moan in surprise. He grew increasingly impatient.

El pressed kisses on Q’s thigh, ignoring his pleas to give him more. Quentin felt almost stupid. At his umpteenth request he could feel another finger pressed into him, making him feel fucking over the moon.

\- Oh fuck - he let himself escape and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of El's fingers inside him, pressing at just the right angle. That boy seemed to know what he was doing.

\- Is that better, sweetheart? - Eliot whispered and pressed another kiss to his thigh, followed by a bite that made Quentin moan again.

He was now a mess. Eliot’s every touch was so arousing, like he knew exactly where to touch him. 

When the dark haired boy replaced his fingers with his dick, almost in unison the two boys let out a moan. Quentin felt complete, he felt like he was experiencing his first time, and it kind of was. It was the first time in years that he had sex with someone feeling such intense feelings.

Eliot began to move slowly as he kissed Quentin, still underneath him. 

Q could feel all El inside him and he loved it. The pace increased, Eliot rested his forehead on Quentin's, he tried to imprint the image of the boy with his eyes closed and his lips now red and parted from the biting and kissing.

Then Eliot was fucking Quentin into the mattress, with just the right rhythm and the right amount of pressure. The latter's thoughts were blank, all he could think about was the sensations his lover was giving him, and the release he desperately needed.

When he opened his eyes again, the expression on Eliot's face was somehow even better than the sex itself. He looked so focused, his brow was furrowed, his eyes were locked in ecstasy, but when he opened them to look at Quentin it was like they shared a connection he'd never felt with anyone before. It felt like living in the Mosaic timeline again.

It was so fucking intense.

Quentin groaned loudly, even when Eliot squeezed his hair between his fingers. His moans sounded a little more muffled, but he kept telling Eliot how amazing he was. It wouldn't last long, but given El’s less precise rhythm, he wasn't the only one.

Soon after, they came together, their breaths now short.

They had just shared intense moments together and all the fears, the anxiety, the sadness, every fucking thing that had happened in the last two months, had vanished and given way to pure love. 

Eliot felt that he loved Quentin so much that he thought his heart had burst. Quentin felt like he finally was back home, safe and loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my story, thank you for the kudos! Love you all so much xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I hope you liked this first chapter, the next one will be up soon. Feel free to leave some kudos and let me know what do you think <3 Love you all xoxo


End file.
